As I sat with my dear friend Desideria, Desi as we call her, and King Markus himself outside the Inn in Mythos two of his daughters appeared. It was not a week ago that during the annual Wickerman Festival that his daughter Lilac was called as a sacrifice to the land. Some feel that she was not called as much as she sacrificed herself in an extreme way of committing suicide. Illyra and Micarla held nothing back placing blame upon the King for Lilacs death.
What does this have to do with me you might ask? Well, it was the obvious love for a family member and the anger that they held inside that dug deep into my memories. The memory of the murder of my parents and my dearest brother Adam. It is not the same as I was so very young at the time, maybe 6 or 7 years old when this happened. But the anger that they felt at the loss of Lilac was confusing to me as I knew nothing of anger just the quiet and loneliness of being alone. Perhaps I should start with what I do remember of my family, which is not very much unfortunately. The memories would come back to me as pictures in an album, so much is jumbled and it has taken much concentration to be able to organize the thoughts and pictures.
As I remember I see a slightly slimmer, shorter version of myself run through the garden after a small rabbit. I hear what I can only assume as my father's voice calling to me "Daphnie, come give this pot of beans to your mother." I can see ahead of me a tall stocky man with a thick beard and pale blue eyes as I approach him skipping and humming he hands me a cast iron pot filled to the rim with beans from the garden. I can hear my own voice answering as I grip the handle of the pot "Yes Father". As I take the pot I can feel his calloused hands and smell the the fresh pods of beans as I carry it into the small cottage. My father had built the stone and timber home when we had arrived in this place, The images of he and my brother working tirelessly through the chilly evenings. As I skipped into the large room holding out the pot toward a short lady with dark hair by the fire, her dark hair and eyes.
As I recall these memories i also see and feel joy and love. Even though I am not an empath, I do recognize the emotions. I was a happy child, or at least I was until that morning I awoke alone in my bed covered in a pink silk blanket cuddling a worn out stuffed frog. I remember that morning like it was yesterday, How no one was there to greet me with breakfast, how the absence of the aroma of my mothers perfume was nearly haunting. I remember climbing up on a chair reaching a box of grains off the shelf pouring them into a pot with some water placing the handle of the pot on the hook which hung from the stone above the fireplace. I was convinced they would return shortly as the fire still burned. I ate what I had cooked for myself and sat at the window waiting, Night fell as I had curled up with a blanket still by the window until i finally had fallen asleep. It was the next morning I learned what true fear and loneliness was.
I may have been young but was strong. My brother had taken me out hunting with him, against the wishes of my parents, but I learned how to gather food, what roots to dig and what fruits were edible and which ones were not. At first I wouldn't stray to far from the small house knowing they would be back, that they would never leave me alone. But hours turned to days which then turned to a weeks, I was truly alone and somewhere in my mind I knew this as truth. The grain was gone and the garden had gone untended for too long and I knew I would have to venture further into the woods to search for something to eat. I remember following a path my brother had shown me and remember his instructions never to stray from it but I was hungry and food did not grow on the worn path I would have to go against his teachings. That morning was warm as I recall and i spotted the wild gallus birds and knew their nests should yield eggs. Mother had taught me how to cook them, as every spring father would bring a basket with him from his wanderings. I remember wandering far down the worn path, far from home before coming upon a small clearing in the trees. It is then that I found them. My mother, father and dearest brother Adam. From a distance they appeared to be sleeping but it was not until I moved closer that i realized this was not entirely true. They were lying among dried leaves. From that point on all I remember is screaming and running. I ran through the woods as fast as I could barely stopping at all until I realized I was truly lost. No sign of the path, the sunlight barely visible through the trees.
My next memory was of waking as the sun began to shine, curled up in a patch of tall grass. They were dead, never to return. Mother had told me stories of her parents, as how they had died, sleeping to never wake again. This is what had happened to her family. They were to sleep and never wake.
Linking back to the events of last night I felt saddened as if I was losing my family all over again. Until recently Lady had been my entire family and then Emerald and Vlad. The King Markus and the Family Labyrinthe was my family now as Emerald has not returned and possibly will never return Lady and Vlad will always be but in some way these events triggered something in me, I knew it was time for me to learn who I was, to find something of my own.
